Nathaniel's Funeral
by Nemaides
Summary: Bart grudgingly accompanies Kitty to Nathaniel's funeral.
1. Chapter 1

"Kitty."

"Bartimaeus." She looked pale and stoic, but her eyes still shined with that defining determination. It was only when I looked down ((at her _clothing_, I'm not a pervert, jaded though I may be)) that I noticed she was dressed in all black.

I pointed a hoof at her. ((I was in the form of a minotaur with sharp horns and glinting eyes, glossy brown fur and red-stained teeth. The works, basically.)) "A funeral. Who went and conked off?"

"Nathaniel. Who else?" Kitty sighed. "Have you forgotten already?"

"Ah…no," the minotaur replied apologetically. "I was _hoping _it was someone else's funeral. Now, it's Nathaniel's funeral, which means…" I tapped my chin with thoughtful dismay, "Which means _I _probably have to attend."

"Spot on, there."

The minotaur crossed its arms. "No way, buddy. This minotaur says 'no' to funerals." A fat red marker popped into my hand, and I drew a red X through the air. "They're boring and far too weepy. I've gone to more than my fair share over the years, and none of them willingly. So…not going."

Kitty waved her hands, and the X disappeared. ((It was at this time that I noticed there was a gap in the pentacle. Looks like we were still on good terms, eh?)) She raised her hands pleadingly. "Come on, Bartimaeus. I need the company. And you two were friends. In a way."

"_In a way," _the minotaur agreed. "Which means, Nathaniel's dead and we were _sort _of friends, so I can forget him. Voila."

"You can't just forget him," Kitty snapped. "Not after what he did for you. He let you go."

I snorted. "I'd be nodding and applauding if he'd done it out of goodwill, but _no." _I leaned forward on one hoof, regarded Kitty intently. "Speaking of which…how'd you know I was alive?"

Kitty shrugged. "It was something that he'd do. Besides, I felt it when he was gone. I'd feel it if you died, too." She looked me in the eye. "Please come, Bartimaeus."

Now, this was rather touching. I wiped away a fake tear and stepped out of the pentacle to stand beside her. "Okay, you've got me. I'm going."


	2. Chapter 2

"And when is this delightful event going to occur?" I asked. "I can't wait." ((Quite sarcastically, mind you, if you hadn't picked it up already…sometimes you humans can be quite thickheaded. Nothing gets through those noggins of yours.))

We were in a small room, square-shaped with several open windows. I could hear the honking of car horns outside, and the everyday hustle and bustle of humanity. A breeze blew through one window and rustled my fur, stirring it around my curled horns.

Kitty read her watch. "In about half an hour."

"You're quite last minute, aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Would you have rather waited for days, knowing there's a _funeral _to come? Believe me, I've been there, done that." She turned, and finally a slight smile broke across her face. "But he did it, you know. He did it!"

"Who did what?" The minotaur eyed her. "I'm kind of losing you."

"_Nathaniel," _Kitty answered. ((Of course. We seemed to be talking of nothing else. He would have liked it, I reckon.)) "He didn't sacrifice himself for nothing. London was saved. Nouda and the rest are gone."

"Along with," I piped in, "Faquarl. I couldn't be happier. Kitchens everywhere can rejoice." ((Faquarl couldn't cook a thing to save his life. I think he just enjoyed wearing a chef's hat. And waving cleavers in the air, to my pained displeasure.))

Kitty checked her watch again. "We'll have to go soon, and…" She considered me, one eyebrow raised. The minotaur stared blankly back.

"What? What were you going to—Oh." The minotaur crossed its arms. "Asking me to come to a darned _funeral _was daring, Kitty." I shook a hoof at her. "I see what you're going to say. And that's pushing it."

Kitty folded her arms as well. "No, it's not. Be reasonable."

We had a silent standoff.

But you know me. Can't stay silent for long.

"Minotaurs are the rage amongst djinn back in Greece," I hinted. "Or, at least, when I was there."

"Which was six hundred or so years ago," Kitty said wryly.

"No, take a few hundred," the minotaur said helpfully. "About then."

"Well," Kitty shot back, "I _think _fashion choices _might _have changed since then."

Ooh, she was getting heavy on the sarcasm. And the _italics._

"Plus, most Londoners are attending the funeral," she added. "They might find it a bit disturbing to see…this." She waved her hands at me. I put my hands on my hips and snorted.

"Then they're getting a bit soft, aren't they? This isn't even the worst of my forms." I shifted from minotaur to a looming serpent with a flickering tongue, to a shadowy wraith with reddened eyes, to a clicking skeleton in a ragged uniform. The skeleton grinned madly. "Yes?"

"No," Kitty said. "Come on, Bartimaeus. What about Ptolemy? And…a suit?" she added hopefully. "Suits are what most men wear to formal occasions."

"I don't." ((It was true—when I was with the Aztecs, I was a gleaming serpent that lurked in a cave. I'd watch while they cut out the hearts of the chosen. I didn't have to wear a darned suit for _that._)) "And I don't exactly count as a _man._ Ick. I'd never want to, the poor slimy things."

Kitty smiled. ((I'm glad to see she still had a sense of humor.)) "Bartimaeus."

The skeleton rattled its way to the window and poked its head out.

We were in an apartment, pretty high up, looking down on a grassy park. A little ways off was a crowded street jammed with cars. Judging from the sun's location, it seemed to be morning time. The skeleton craned its neck, stretched on its toes—and caught a glimpse of sunlight flashing off many pieces of glass, sending off bright flares. It was the remnants of the Glass Palace.

Kitty came to stand beside me. "They haven't finished cleaning it up yet," she said, pointing at the glimmer. "I walk by it every day on my way to work."

I didn't look at her. "Have they…?"

"Found his body? Yes. How else would they be having his funeral?" She leaned against the sill, her dark hair waving around her face, and took a deep breath. "So." She prodded me. "Enough with the skeleton and do something nicer."

I raised my hooves in an attempt to ward her off. She tapped her foot against the floor. The minotaur huffed.

"Fine. And you know I'm doing it only for you." I swiftly changed to Ptolemy's form, dressed in all black. "But no suit."

"No suit," Kitty agreed with a sigh. "At least you're human-formed. We have…" She looked at her watch. "Fifteen minutes. Let's go."


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Days Before…**

"Those Americans are really quite impossible."

Kitty tossed the last piece of bread out the window, watching the little birds flutter over it in the courtyard below. Behind her, Piper was chewing furiously on a sweet-bean bun, freshly out of a three-hour meeting. They were having a snack break before Piper had to enter yet another meeting.

"What's happened now?" Kitty asked wearily, flopping into an armchair. Piper grabbed a croissant off of the tray and pillowed into the sofa.

"They want to separate from the Empire completely! Imagine that," Piper said through a mouthful of pastry. "What a batty idea. Mr. Button's off trying to talk them out of it. And then another meeting." She made a face.

"Welcome to the politician life," Kitty joked. "If you're going to take charge, you'd better get used to it."

Piper's eyebrows creased together. "Oh, no. Take charge? I mean…that's just not me." She took a large bite of croissant and chewed rapidly. "Thank God for pastries," she breathed. "I haven't eaten…since the day before yesterday?"

Kitty shoved a jam sandwich into her hand. "I think you'd do perfectly. You're already bossing everyone around, and quite effectively too…moving on, did you say you haven't eaten since…."

"The day before yesterday?" Piper shrugged. "I was busy."

"Too busy taking care of others to take care of yourself," Kitty sighed. "Feed yourself now and then, won't you?"

Piper grinned. "You can bet on that. I won't be collapsing of starvation nor exhaustion any time soon."

"Kitty!"

Kitty turned round at the mention of her name. Standing in the lounge doorway was Mr. Button, his hair neatly tucked back. Beside him was an old man with long gray hair.

"This is Mr. Pifton, an American shaman," Mr. Button introduced. "He's headed back to his rooms—show him to the elevator, would you? Good girl."

Kitty waved a quick good-bye to Piper and made her way to the front.

Upon closer look, the shaman's hair was not gray but silver. His face was noticeably passive, and Kitty met his eyes as she shook his outstretched hand.

"Ah, is that miss Piper?" Mr. Button craned his neck. Then his eyes lit up. "And food? Hmm…I wish a good day to you, Mr. Pifton. Kitty, take care of our guest. I'm off to have a quick snack." He hurried off toward Piper, cane rattling against the floor.

"The elevators are this way," Kitty began. She moved to take the shaman's arm, but he blocked her with his other hand.

"I'm fine, thank you."

They began walking down the hall in silence, Kitty trying to think of things to say. "Erm…"

"You're Katherine Jones?" Mr. Pifton shuffled forward. He took in Kitty's grayed hair, and the wrinkles by her eyes. "On second thought, of course you are. The girl who traveled to the Other Place and back."

"How'd you know that?" Kitty asked suspiciously. She hadn't told anybody about her journey. It was her secret, and her secret only.

His watery gray eyes met hers. "Am I a shaman or not?"

She had no answer to that, of course, besides: "You are."

"So fill me in, Miss Jones," the shaman croaked. "What happened at the Glass Palace?"

"I feel like I've told this a thousand times already," Kitty replied reluctantly. "Don't you already know?" She looked down the hallway, waiting for the elevator doors to come into view.

Mr. Pifton followed her gaze and smiled evenly. "We have plenty of time. And yes, I know. But not from your perspective."

So Kitty, with a beginning sigh, related her story and ended with, "Mandrake set off the staff. It destroyed Nouda, and he died from his injuries. Bartimaeus…died with him, too," she added uncertainly.

Mr. Pifton took a step forward and pressed the elevator button. "Ah, the demon." He looked calmly at the elevator doors, and then at her. "You hesitated. You don't feel the djinni's death."

"Well, I…" Kitty felt herself flushing. She hated that she was flushing, and she took a step forward. "Another thing you know that you shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't I?" the shaman asked, grinning toothily. "I'm…"

"…A shaman, yes, I know," Kitty finished irritably.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. The shaman stepped inside, and he looked up at Kitty right before the doors hissed closed again. "If you don't feel his death, then the djinni is not dead, Katherine Jones. Follow your instincts."

Then he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

NF Part 4

**One Day Before…**

"I don't get what you're doing all this for." Piper was in the doorway, her mousy brown hair pinned up and her face creased as she frowned. Frowned at Kitty.

"You worked with Mandrake, you should know." Kitty kept right on drawing, running the piece of white chalk across the floorboards of her bedroom. She finished and glanced up at Piper. "So?"

"They're pentacles," Piper said in surprise. She looked from Kitty to the chalk to the pentacle again. "Well. But…Kitty, they're pentacles."

"Of course they're pentacles," Kitty replied impatiently. She tossed the chalk into the bin beside her. "I was wondering what you _thought _of them. So?" she repeated.

"They're very good," Piper answered slowly. "I…Kitty. How do you know how to draw a pentacle?"

"I worked with Mr. Button for a few years," Kitty said off-handedly. "I picked up a few tips. Summoning spirits, drawing pentacles, picking up books…making tea."

Piper nodded in acknowledgement. "That makes sense. But what are you trying to summon? Why? So soon after the spirit rebellion?" she asked in a rush. She looked over the pentacles again, and pointed in dismay. "And Kitty, you've left gaps."

"I know I left some gaps," Kitty said, to Piper's surprise. "I did it on purpose.

"As for your other questions, I'm summoning Bartimaeus. I trust him, and Nathaniel was his master, and Nathaniel's funeral is coming up soon, so…"

"Bartimaeus?" Piper had moved into the room by now, and she was squatting by the pentacles, poking at the gaps with a frown on her face. "Nathaniel's djinni? Ohhh, he was the obnoxious one. I remember. He was quite annoying, always pestering, complaining. But he's dead," she finished. "Dead with his master."

"Maybe." Kitty stood up. "Maybe not." She took Piper's hands in hers. "I've got to do this, Piper. I have to find out."

"If he's alive, you'll be safe, even with these gaps in the pentacles?" Piper asked flatly.

"I'll be safe. We've had…past experiences, you might say."

"You said something about Nathaniel's funeral."

"They found the body, Piper," Kitty said softly. "Nathaniel's."

"I know. Funeral's tomorrow, and it's a big hassle, too," Piper muttered grimly. "No offense to him, but his death is a royal pain in the…butt. But what does his funeral have to do with the djinni?"

"I want him to come." Kitty moved to the doorway, and Piper followed after. "He'll be easy to convince, too, because I know he would want to come."

"Bartimaeus? At the funeral?" Piper shook her head. "You'll control him, right?"

"The best I can," Kitty replied with a laugh.

"I came over with the leftover pastries from yesterday," Piper said, tromping down the hall. "They're in the kitchen. I just strolled on in—the door was wide open."

"I guess I'd forgotten to close it," Kitty said guiltily.

"See you tomorrow," Piper called, hopping outside. "And control Bartimaeus!" she added, before whipping the door closed after her.

"If he's alive," Kitty whispered. Then she walked off into the kitchen to find a pastry.


	5. Chapter 5

Kitty and I walked outside—and stopped dead. I recovered first.

"Sure looks busy today," I commented dryly.

The street in front of the apartment was whizzing with cars. People rushed by on the sidewalk. The trumpeting noise of a band came from further off.

"Wow." Kitty gazed around, slowly shutting the door behind her. "This is…it wasn't so busy a few hours ago. It must be because of the funeral. And we need to get across the street." She looked doubtfully at the other side.

"Does this mean we can ditch the funeral?" I threw in.

"Because of some hunks of metal?" Kitty threw out her hand, staring down the lines of cars. "You're really grasping, aren't you?"

I huffed, crossed my arms, and looked up petulantly—until I noticed the outstretched hand. I eyed it for a few moments, and then took it. "What are we…_woaaaah!" _

Kitty, the moment I had grabbed her hand, had yanked me into the grandest jaywalking scheme of all time.

We sprang off the sidewalk and dashed down the street, taking advantage of a sudden lack of cars zooming down. I ran alongside Kitty, cursing these slow human legs. Kitty was laughing hysterically, in sync with the blaring car horns.

"Why're you _laughing_?" I darted forward, tugging her along with me, barely making it past a whizzing car. "I don't mind some action now and then, but _this. _Next thing you know, it won't only be Nathaniel's funeral today!"

We made it to the other side. Kitty bent down on hands and knees, letting all her merriment out.

"Sorry," she gasped between chuckles. "I…that was the scariest thing I've done in days. I needed that."

"What did the riot do to your head?" I asked wonderingly, helping her up.

Kitty rolled her eyes. "It got us across, didn't it? We're alive. We're here."

"Or we could've been a greasy little smear on the pavement."

Kitty made a face. "Okay, come on." She started walking down the sidewalk, moving between people. "There's going to be a parade down a main street and then a funeral service."

"Oh, joy." I followed her, elbowing through the crowd. Kitty was dodging people far ahead. Too far ahead. I had to abandon my leisurely, _time-wasting _stroll and hurry after her. ((Humans. Always hurrying.))

I slid through a gap between two people and stood beside Kitty, right on the edge of the sidewalk. "So. A parade, you said? For _him?"_

"Yep."

"The lucky bastard."

"I think he would have preferred to be alive than dead with a parade." Kitty leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the marching band.

"I don't know. He was a bit full of himself, that boy." ((Oh, lookie here, we were talking about Nathaniel again. But then again, I'd started this conversation. Looks like the blame is partly on _moi_.))

The band marched on past. Kitty was tapping her foot to the beat. I folded my arms and, at last, resigned myself to my unfortunate fate. ((I'd rather be fighting spoon-to-cleaver against Faquarl right now. At least things were a bit more interesting. And less sappy.))

"I wonder when the hearse is coming through," Kitty muttered. She looked up and tried to see down the lane. "Do you know what's up next?"

"Maybe a giant blow-up picture of his _face_." I kicked at a candy wrapper. "Why can't people just say 'Thanks' and leave it be?"

Kitty grabbed my arm. "Hey."

I huffed out a breath and looked elsewhere. She gripped me tighter.

"Bartimaeus. Bart. Can I call you Bart?"

"_Bart?_ For goodness sake, no." I tried experimentally to tug my arm out of her grasp, to no avail. Her clutch was like iron. ((Both painful and impossible to break out of. Well, not impossible. A quick Detonation or even a hard shove would do the trick, but I wasn't going to do _that, _was I? We were _friends _now. Or something like that.))

"Whatever. Look." She brushed a piece of hair out of her face and looked me in the eye. "They're just grateful to him, that's all. I know you're—"

However, the lovely, healing ((I'm being sarcastic here. I know, I know, hate on the jaded djinni)) statements she had to say to me were put on hold. Ringing came suddenly from her pocket, and Kitty swore. She let go of my arm ((I rubbed it while she wasn't looking)) and pulled out her cell-phone.

"Hello?" she said. "Oh—hi, Piper…yeah…I know. Wait, _what? _Really? I didn't—okay, thank you. Bye!" She snapped the phone closed and grabbed me for the third time that day.

"What's going on?"

"I was wrong about the time of the service," she replied, hurriedly stashing her phone away. "The hearse has already traveled through the main street. The service is in five minutes, so come on!"

She dashed off, dragging me along with her. I picked myself up and ran half-heartedly alongside her.

It was funeral time.


	6. Chapter 6

And there it was.

The coffin was black and had his name, his magician name, inscribed in fancy gold lettering. Was that how he'd have liked it? Kitty averted her eyes and moved along the rows of chairs. A speech droned on up front.

"Kitty, my dear girl! Come here, bring the demon with you." Mr. Button waved his hand in their direction. Kitty winced inwardly at his words.

"Bartimaeus—" she got out.

But the he'd already beaten her. Bartimaeus put his hands on his hips and looked over his shoulder. "A demon? Where?"

"Come on, _Bart," _Kitty said, smiling upon seeing Mr. Button's bewildered expression. She sat beside the old magician. "Piper told you he was coming?"

"She did," Mr. Button yawned. He fanned himself with a hand. "Excuse me. So, Kitty, you're…" He hastily checked his watch. "Nine minutes late. Good for you. Nine minutes away from these horrendous atrocities _pretending_ to be speeches."

"Sounds like fun," the djinni grumbled from beside Kitty. He and Mr. Button exchanged grieving looks.

"As a matter of fact," Kitty said resignedly, "_I_ have to make a speech."

The two of them goggled at her. She flapped a hand in their direction. "Don't look so surprised. I was the last one to see him alive."

"No, it was me," the djinni interjected.

She rolled her eyes, sat back into her chair. "You didn't see him. You were inside his head."

"Well, if you put it _that _way…"

"I'm going to speak from the heart," she said softly.

"Eh?" Bartimaeus leaned toward her. "What'd you say?"

She focused grimly on the black coffin up ahead. "There're loads of people giving speeches here. Most of them are probably faked-out. For example," she said with a snort, "look who's talking now."

They both glanced upward at the podium. The flashing green eyes and long black hair were enough.

"Farrar," the djinni grumbled. "Her speech doesn't mean a rat's arse." He looked up, caught Kitty's curious gaze. "It's an old term. Means—"

"I think I know what it means," Kitty cut in hurriedly. "What I'm saying, basically, is—"

"Is that you didn't write out your speech beforehand, so you're going to fumble it out onstage and hopefully not free-fall?" Bartimaeus interrupted this time.

"_No," _Kitty snapped, trying not to flush. "It's going to be great because I care. Cared."

"Cared. About…" Bartimaeus wiggled his eyebrows.

"Stop acting like a two year-old," Kitty jibed. Then her eyes softened and she gazed off at the coffin, glinting under the brilliant sun. "I don't know. Maybe."

Bartimaeus grinned. "Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but that relationship is a_ teeny-weeny_ bit doomed."


	7. Chapter 7

What? It was true.

Kitty shot me a glare that could have shattered glass. "Thank you for pointing that out. _Bart._"

"Look, is that going to become a habit?" I twiddled my fingers. "_Katherine." _

"Stop bickering," Mr. Button sighed. Kitty fell back into her seat, her hands working nervously together as she stared at the podium.

"Next up, our dear Katherine Jones." Piper smiled brightly and strode off stage.

Kitty turned pale.

"Hey, you're going to do great, remember?" I prodded her forward. "Because you _care." _Again with the glare. "Just spout about how wonderful he was, everyone will applaud, Nathaniel will turn over in his coffin and make kissy-faces, and then it'll be over."

The girl walked slowly toward the podium.

"Hello, I'm Kitty Jones." She bent forward and spoke into the microphone. "I'm not afraid to admit that up until now, I've been in the Resistance."

Whispers broke out amongst the audience. This was going to be good.

"Our _dearest _John Mandrake tried to drag me off to the Tower." She smiled grimly. "I punched him in the eye. And you know what? It felt good. Because back then, he was a prat, a bully…" Kitty's eyes fell on the suited officials in the front row. "A bastard of a magician."

It didn't sound like she was taking my advice. What had happened to spouting about his wonderfulness?

"But he changed. Mandrake saw his faults. His errors. And just in time, too, to risk his life saving the common people of London from a demon riot…while quite a _few_ of our grand magicians ran and hid. I'm not going to name any names."

I meticulously raised an eyebrow and fought off a grin. Then I craned my neck to see dear old Whitwell, her face stony. ((After the riot, a group of workers found her huddled underneath a table in a moldy cellar. She claimed that she had merely been taking a 'breather' before she went out to save the city.))

"I'm not saying he was perfect, even after he found his epiphany." Kitty avoided her gaze from the audience. I followed her line of sight to the glossy coffin. "He was still a bit arrogant, still a bit snobby."

I let out a low whistle. She'd said she was speaking from the heart, but was this really what you said about a person at their _funeral? _

"But in the end, he saved my life, and went without hesitation to his death. John Mandrake saved London, and possibly the rest of the country, even the world. That's what I would call a great magician." Kitty closed her eyes briefly, and then looked awkwardly at the audience. "Erm…thank you."

The applause of the crowd was massively diverse. The magicians seated near the front clapped grudgingly, their hands touching together barely twice before they stopped. In the back, the few invited commoners whooped shamelessly. Around the middle-ish, a very renowned djinni smiled slightly and clapped hard enough to make his hands burn.

Kitty trudged back to her seat. "That was awful."

The Egyptian boy shrugged. "The magicians you just insulted seem to think so." We both darted a look at Whitwell.

"She deserved it, the…rat's arse of a woman." Kitty grinned at me. "You're really rubbing off on me. Geez."

"Your own fault for summoning me," I pointed out. "Foul language, backchat, etc., etc. comes free."

"Excellent speech, Kitty, if a bit short." Mr. Button patted the girl on the shoulder. "Oh, look. They're lowering the coffin."

The coffin's black surface glinted and the faded out of sight as it vanished into the hole. I let my eyes followed it down. _So long, Nathaniel. It's been dandy knowing you. _

Dirt was pushed into the hole, packed on tight, and then my master was buried in the earth. ((Now would be the time for me to comment on how he died so young, and for such a noble purpose, blah, blah…I'll leave that to the sappy folks. For now, let's just say that I felt weighed down.))

Everyone bowed his or her heads for a moment. I lowered mine and gazed at a very interesting piece of grass sticking out from under a chair leg.

"Thank you for attending this service," Piper said quietly into the microphone. "And may John Mandrake rest in peace."

A person on the side hefted up a wooden box and slid the top to the side. Several fat, pure white doves clambered to the top. They stretched their wings and, without hesitation, took off into the air.

It was over, at last. Nathaniel, John Mandrake, my former master…his funeral was at an end. I should be rejoicing.

So then why did I, a six thousand year old djinni, a terror in battle, the Serpent of the Silver Plumes, suddenly feel…empty?

0000000000000000000000000

The service members trickled out fast. Soon it was only Kitty and Bartimaeus standing there, amongst a skeleton of empty chairs.

"Well. It's done." Kitty looked at the djinni to find him staring off in the distance, in a sort of glazed stupor. "Are you all right?"

"Just dandy," the Egyptian boy replied quietly. "Never been better." He hesitated. "I don't… Kitty, would you mind if…we see his burial spot?" He caught Kitty's surprised look and hastily added, "Not like I'm going to cry and pound the earth or anything. I just need to…say some things."

"I…of course." Kitty followed slowly after the hastening djinni. "Are you sure you're all right?" There was no answer this time. Suppose…?

Could Bartimaeus have grown as close to Nathaniel as he had to Ptolemy? It was possible, but strange. It'd always seemed like the two were at war.

If it were true, it could also explain the djinni's odd behavior, like his aversion to the funeral, and his sudden sourness at the parade.

Kitty sat down in a chair close to the podium. Her hair fell over her shoulder and tickled her wrist. As she tucked it back, she carefully observed the djinni.

Bartimaeus was standing beside the mound of fresh earth, his back slouched and arms crossed. He didn't move at all. Not a stir, but for the movement of his mouth. The slow flicker of his eyes.

Kitty watched him. Time ticked by. Minutes passed. At last she could bear it no longer. Kitty strode over beside him. "Hey."

"Just in time, Kitty." Bartimaeus stretched and yawned. He grinned at her lazily, and seemed nothing like the solemn figure he'd been just minutes before. "I'm done with my sentimental yakking. Your turn."

"My turn? I've made a speech," Kitty said indignantly. "I…" Her eyes drifted and fell on the toiled dirt. "I…" A sudden thought came to her—Nathaniel, choking in that tight box underneath the earth. Then his gasping frame went cold and still.

"Ahem…Kitty?" Bartimaeus waved his hand in front of her face.

"He's dead." Kitty moved past the djinni and crouched beside the grave.

"Uh…_yes._"

"You idiot, Nathaniel, you stupid bastard," she whispered suddenly, bending over to place her hands on the earth. "You're dead. Did you see that coming? What did it feel like?"

Bartimaeus moved forward, his brow wrinkling. "Kitty, that's…"

"Were you scared?" Kitty gripped a clot of dirt in her hand. She wiped profusely at her eyes. "I'm_ not_ crying, you prat," she said to the dirt. "I haven't cried for you at all."

The djinni was sitting beside her now, letting the dirt trickle through his fingertips. "You're crying now."

Kitty let her hand fall away from her face. She stared at the tiny bead of water tracing its way down her grimy hand, making a clean track through the dirt stains. Another bead suddenly joined the first, and then a third. Tears were falling silently from the dark-haired girl's face.

She was letting herself cry at last.

They sat together for a while. The sky was bright blue over them. White clouds drifted. The sun shone. It was a beautiful day—too beautiful, it would seem, for mourning.

Kitty's lips tasted like salt. She rubbed the last of her tears from her face and slid a hand over her reddened eyes. "He promised, you know. That he'd come back. The—"

"Bastard, I know."

"I was going to say 'prat'." Kitty smiled anyway, a slight smile that proved there would be more, many more, to come in the future.

"All he wanted was to save London." Bartimaeus rubbed the dirt off his hands. "And…" He darted a look at the girl. "To protect you. I think," he added conversationally, "That if the boy had survived, you two could get married and have babies, and—sorry, is this getting to personal?"

Kitty had her eyebrows raised. "Oh, _no_. Please. Continue," she said dryly.

A breeze sifted through, scattering the dirt and making their hair whip.

"That wasn't all he cared about—London and, according to you, me." Kitty held the djinni's gaze. "Nathaniel saved _you_, too."

"Bah." Bartimaeus waved a hand airily. "Little old me? He didn't care less. It was all about setting off the staff, and making sure everything went perfectly to plan." He prodded the earth. "Kitty Jones, if I ended up fighting Nouda in Nathaniel's dead body, do you think I would, and I quote, 'cock things up'?"

"You seriously want me to answer that?"

"Oh, never mind."

The two stood up. Without a backward glance, they left the graveside.

As they walked along the grass, the breeze tossing Kitty's hair from her neck, Bartimaeus stopped and grinned.

"Kitty," the djinni chuckled. "I just remembered."

The girl eyed him. "What?"

"Nathaniel says hello."


End file.
